


A Taste of Cookie Dough

by Elleth



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Cookies, F/M, Fluff, Slice of Life, Unconventional Heroics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8031646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth
Summary: Tuuri and Reynir bake cookies, lose cookies, and get a taste of cookie dough nonetheless.





	A Taste of Cookie Dough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiraly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/gifts).



Noon settled over the little village just outside Odense. A wide, pale winter sky stretched over everything, and the air was crisp, just on the edge of frost, perfect weather for fresh air. Tuuri leaned back against the tank's hood and eyed Reynir, who'd started talking about Yule in Iceland, and all the holiday food they'd he'd be making at home that made her mouth water. And some that didn't.

"And cake? Cookies? Can you bake?" 

"Yeah? Yes. Yes, I can bake. I'm great at baking!" 

"Can you make some _here_?"

"Maybe… I think so… yes?" Reynir grinned.

Tuuri's heart started hammering - not just over the possibility of cookies, but mostly at the grin that flashed into Reynir's face, lit by the sun mirroring off the windshield. His hair, even messy and frazzled as it was, gleamed with fiery highlights in the sunbeams, and she'd be lying to herself if she hadn't tried to find excuses to sink her fingers into it. But she couldn't do that, could she? Not if she couldn't follow through with where _else_ her mind was going.

And for the time being, it looked like the cookies they both seemed to be craving (since Mikkel had declared his own stash of cookies to be reserved for emergencies, and emergencies _only_ ; what constituted an emergency he had refused to explain) were the only things that were going to touch Reynir's lips. If they managed to bake them at all. 

She didn't miss the little sideways glance Reynir gave her when she finally tore her gaze away, and it didn't help calming her heartbeat. But at least he didn't say anything to make resisting even harder. Tuuri wasn't used to resisting temptations, at least not within the confines of Keuruu; she knew exactly how to twist Onni's guilty conscience to get a little more out of the allowance he let her keep out of her salary, and how to talk the merchant from Lappeenranta out of another handful of rowan candies when she came to Keuruu. She almost felt like laughing at how significant her favourite sweet had become with Reynir's appearance. 

It wasn't like she'd had much else to indulge in, really. 

And being in the Silent World with the object of her affection around her at all times - it was unfair. Much better to focus on something easier, like cookies.

"So, uh, where do you think Mikkel keeps the ingredients for baking his cookies? You just helped him clean back there yesterday." 

"Oh." Reynir's face fell. "I don't know. In his luggage somewhere? There's flour in one of the crates, but no sugar or butter. I should know, I was in one. It's just tuna cans and some wrinkled vegetables other than that." He grimaced. "When I'm home I'll never eat canned tuna again." 

"Me neither - but that's no good, how are we supposed to bake anything without the right ingredients? They won't be away that long, Sigrun said, so we have to hurry before they get back and Mikkel confiscates everything." 

Tuuri glanced inside toward the bunk area. They'd left Emil as their protector, and he was moping; instead of keeping them company he'd grabbed a sheet of Finnish vocabulary. He'd be no help, but at least he wouldn't be getting in the way, either. 

"I don't know," Reynir answered. "I bet if I were better at magic I could make them appear, if I knew any runes for finding hidden things. I mean, there probably are, but I don't know them. I'm sorry, I'm no good - but when I'm at the Academy - " 

" - you'll probably be able to buy cookies at a bakery. Sweets aren't as expensive in Iceland as they are in Mora, right? And in Finland. We don't even have a proper bakery at Keuruu. Apart from lunch everyone makes their own bread. Onni bakes ours, since I once burned a whole oven full, and he didn't like that very much." She laughed and rubbed the back of her neck. Reynir brought out that side in her and made her blabber like a fool. "But that's why you'll bake these, so I don't burn them and we don't have any cookies at all."

Reynir gave her a look that was half amusement and half trepidation. She wondered if he remembered Mikkel putting her on the spot over their adventure to Kastellet. "I guess so?" he said. 

"Eee, yes! And I'll go and raid Mikkel's bags. That way we can split the blame if the cookies aren't enough to mollify him. I don't think he'll get angry, though." 

"Okay, go ahead? I'll get everything ready and then I'll need… flour, butter and sugar. That's all, really, it's not a complicated recipe. I don't think I could make Löftkokur or Hálfmánar here, they're a bit more complicated, but Spesíur are simple." His face lit up. "And tasty! I bet you'll like them!" 

Tuuri grinned. "Sounds good. I'll bring it when I find it. And then - cookies!" 

She wandered off inside to find the supplies Reynir would need. Mikkel had a large army-style duffel bag in the luggage pile in the bunk room that looked like it had seen better times, worn and ripped from what must have been more than one military campaign before Admiral Olsen had fired him. She began groping through it. It'd be tempting to see what else Mikkel had in there, but she didn't want to put the whole thing into disarray and tip him off that she'd been in his things earlier than necessary.

"Tuuri?"

She jumped. She'd forgotten about Emil, who was stretched out on his bunk with the sheet of Finnish vocabulary over his face, now sleepily squinting out at her from under one edge of the paper.

"Y-yeah? Don't mind me, I'm just getting something for Reynir; sorry I woke you." 

"I was _studying_."

She doubted it. It was too dim in the room for reading, and Emil had been suspiciously quiet. "Oh, s-sure. Sorry I interrupted you. If you need any help - " 

" - I think I'm getting the hang of it now. Finnish is a complicated language to learn even for a brainiac like me, but I'll have it mastered in no time now." He made a dismissive hand gesture in her direction.

"Oh, good! Onnea! It means 'good luck'." Emil didn't answer, and Tuuri's hand closed around a satchel with something hard and gritty inside, and then a tin. Sugar and butter, Reynir had said. She grinned to herself and pulled it out. For good measure she dipped a finger into the satchel and licked it off. Sweetness spilled over her tongue.

"Yes!" Tuuri whispered. Powdered army supply butter, but butter anyway, and much more sugar than they'd probably need. In the bunk Emil's breath had deeped into soft snores that lifted the vocabulary sheet off his face with every breath. Tuuri swallowed a laugh, pulled her mask up, and wandered outside. 

Reynir was standing hunched over, digging a hole into the earth with both hands in a way that sent the dirt flying back through his wide legs; his tongue was tucked into the corner of his lips under his mask. Weird as it was, it was cute. And even though his coat covered most of it, Tuuri found herself stealing a look at his behind - she couldn't help it, it stood out. Literally. 

Even if it wasn't that much to look at.

Promptly, a flying clump of dirt whizzed past her face. She spluttered and stepped out of the line of fire.

Maybe she'd deserved that one. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Making an oven! At home we've got hot springs nearby and lots of earth energy in the ground, so we use it for baking and all sorts of things, especially when I'm out with the sheep and there's no oven or anything. I figured if we just light a fire in the pit and then put the baking tray above, it'll work just as well. How do you think Mikkel does it?" 

She thought for a moment. "No idea, I don't think he has an oven hidden away anywhere. Maybe with the heater in the bunk? But Emil's asleep there, so we can't really." 

"Okay. Good thing I already made the oven." He looked down at the hole. "Sort of." 

"And I found what you were looking for!" Tuuri presented her findings with a triumphant flourish and Reynir bounced up and down on his toes. "If you light a fire, I'll go get to work!"

Their fingers brushed when he took the butter and sugar from Tuuri, and she held her breath. "Take my hand," she murmured under her breath, in Finnish. Reynir blinked at her. "Sorry?" 

"N… nothing. Sorry. I just said I was hungry." 

"Oh, okay." She might have imagined his face falling - but then again she might not. Tuuri couldn't tell for sure before Reynir pulled away and strode off around the back of the tank. Tuuri slapped her forehead. "Don't be so _shy_ , stupid!" 

She wasn't totally sure whom she meant by that. 

A little while later Tuuri had gotten a fire going with a lighter she'd borrowed from a sleeping Emil, a couple of mistyped report sheets that were no good for anybody, and a bunch of dry twigs from the trees all around. Thin wisps of smoke were rising from under the edges of the baking tray, and the smell of Reynir's cookies hung all around them in a wonderful cloud. Tuuri had gotten comfortable on the hood of the tank again and kept a close eye on the proceedings. 

The cookies looked more like tiny pancakes, but that was okay; Reynir said they smelled like they were supposed to, and he'd know. 

She couldn't wait to taste them. Reynir had talked all about crunchy, buttery cookies crumbling on her tongue; it'd made her mouth water. 

Reynir himself had dropped his mask and hovered above the tray, breathing deeply and with his eyes closed. The bowl he'd scraped clean with a finger, before Tuuri had even had her chance to claim a taste of the dough, sat next to him. 

From the corner of Tuuri's eye, something skittered along the edge of the campsite, just outside the perimeter alarm. Emil was still asleep inside. 

"Lalllli? Sigruuun? Mikkellllll? Kisuuu?" 

She was pretty sure it wasn't Lalli. Or Sigrun. Or Mikkel. Or Kisu. 

Reynir gave her a look. She gave Reynir a look. 

Reynir gulped. "I-it might just be… a bird. Or a squirrel. Or a _bunny_! Remember Kastellet? Mikkel said they were immune, I'm sure there are some here as well!" 

But squirrels, birds and bunnies didn't skitter. "Reynir…" she whispered. "Put your mask on. And then go get Emil." 

Reynir's wide eyes were fixed on the underbrush, but he did as she said, never taking his eyes off the spot where they'd seen the movement. It had stilled, but it didn't mean the danger was over. Reynir walked inside, scrambling and almost falling up the doorway. 

_Something_ hopped out into the open. Tuuri drew her legs up. The perimeter alarm started beeping in a shrill staccato. 

It was small enough to fit the palm of Tuuri's hand, with elongated front teeth and a frizz of fur along its spine; the rest of it was rashed skin. The creature's head swivelled around to find the source of the sound. 

Through the windshield-view into the tank, Tuuri could see the bright rectangle of the door, and Reynir standing in it light a deer caught in one of the Keuruu walls' floodlights. 

Reynir had left the door open. 

The thing - it _was_ a squirrel, Tuuri thought, or at least it had once been one - eyed the door. If it ran - if it made for Reynir, if it got to him - _where was Emil?_ \- he would - _no_. 

No, she wouldn't let that happen. 

Careful, to not alert the thing, Tuuri slid off the hood. The oven they'd set up was closer to her than to either the thing or the door. 

It was a pity about the cookies, but as long as there was a Reynir, he could always make new ones. 

She took the tray, hot through her gloves, and lunged, just as the thing did. 

She thought she was screaming. _Someone_ was screaming, a long, drawn-out _eeeeeeeeeeeee!_

Tuuri swung. 

The cookies flew wide. 

Nothing. 

No impact. 

_I'vemissedI'vemissedI'vemissedGodsI'vemissed._

She dropped the baking tray and ran for the door, slamming it shut behind her. 

Then Reynir's arms were around her, warm and strong and close, holding her up as her knees buckled. 

"I thought - Emil hit his head on the bunk when he jumped up, he's not coming - but that was _such_ a good idea! You're so smart and brave to distract it like that! I had no idea beasts liked cookies!! It went after them! Not you! When they get back Sigrun and Mikkel and Lalli can take care of it!" 

When she looked up, Reynir was beaming at her, like they hadn't just escaped certain death at the very best. She hadn't had any idea about beasts liking cookies either. She'd meant to clobber it with the tray and then run. It'd been sheer dumb luck. Or maybe her Gods were looking after her. 

And then her hands were grasping Reynir's braid and pulling his head down to her level and she went up on tiptoes to meet him halfway and her eyes closed and shewasreallygoingtodothis, shewasgoingtokissReynir and - 

\- their masks collided with a resounding _thunk_ that jammed the filters into her cheeks and the nosepiece further up her face. 

Reynir blinked at her, then started laughing. "Oh! Oh no! I'm sorry! Can we try that again? Without the masks on? I'd like to try that again. If you like. I mean..." 

Tuuri dropped her breath mask before he'd finished speaking. She undid the fastening on his, for good measure, so he wouldn't change his mind or spoil the moment by babbling any more. He held still under her fingers when the mask slipped down; her fingers rested on his jawline, soft, short stubble scratched under her gloves. 

He took a soft breath, almost a gasp. His breath smelled like cookie dough, and his eyes didn't leave Tuuri's. They were so _green_. Tuuri's breath caught. 

"Can we… kiss now?" 

They could. He tasted like cookie dough, too.


End file.
